


Gilded Cages

by Tashlen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Jedi Code, Jedi Ideals, Jedi Temple, Keeping Promises, Lost Love, Opposites Attract, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other, Sith Code, Sith Empire, Sith Politics, Sith Shenanigans, Sith Social Lives, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashlen/pseuds/Tashlen
Summary: The story of a Sith (Seryan Varicek) from a highly-placed family on Dromund Kaas, and a freed former Miraluka slave (Kylena) turned Jedi.





	1. Seeking

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by a prompt that I wrote for a 30 day challenge. (Chapter 22, to be exact, where the prompt was "I Love You") It's not necessary to read it first, but it would provide context, since this builds off that story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seryan narrows down his search.

The estate was immaculate and expansive. Situated well outside the busy environs of Kaas City, it was far enough away to be insulated from the noise and activity of the city, but not so far to make it an arduous trip. Unless one really didn't want to leave the city, which was the case. There was little enough downtime for an Imperial agent, and Zarane resented having to trek out on what was supposed to be one of her free days.

But when a Sith called, there was no option but to answer, and to do it as quickly and as respectfully as possible. 

She was ushered through the massive building at the heart of the compound, a neatly dressed slave in black livery leading her through the hallways and into a cavernous, plant-filled room. Anyone else would likely have been lost by this point, but agents were trained to notice details, and Zarane could have found her way back out easily enough if it became necessary. Judging from the bustling servants visible everywhere in the wide hallways, though, it was unlikely she would have any need to do so. 

Sunlight, or an excellent simulacrum of it, streamed down through expensive sheets of real glass set into the high ceiling, filling the enormous room with light. Plants grew everywhere, lining the walls in manicured, costly beds arranged in tiers, and in wild profusion intended to mimic the frenetic growth of the jungles. Some of the plants were exceedingly rare: roses and delicate orchids from the far reaches of the galaxy. Some were easily found in the regions surrounding Kaas City; Zarane was familiar with enough of them to realize where they'd originated. Delicately carved wooden benches dotted the room, placed carefully to take advantage of the light from the skylights and the tinkling fall of water from several fountains and water features. The humid air felt heavy, and the agent found herself staring in wonder at the sight. It was unimaginable, the amount of money that it must have taken to build such a space. 

“Do you like it?” Cultured and deep, a man's voice intruded upon Zarane's awe at her surroundings, and she jerked in surprise before turning to face the owner of the voice. Tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair and piercing green eyes – there was no mistaking him, even in the casual breeches and tan shirt he was sporting at the moment. Lord Seryan stood by one of the beds, a pair of pruning shears held in one hand and an expectant look on his face. 

Gathering her dignity, the agent nodded in response. “I can't imagine that anyone would find it anything other than beautiful, my lord. I hope you have not been waiting long. As soon as I received word, I left the city, but the weather was less than hospitable to travel.” 

“As it often is. I'm glad that you can appreciate the beauty that I've tried to replicate here in this garden. Agents often lack.. imagination. The fact that you do not is heartening.” The Sith favored her briefly with a smile before turning back to the plant, removing a few buds with careful precision. “The report?”

Straightening, Zarane tucked her hands behind the small of her back, falling into a comfortable parade rest position as she began her recitation. “Our personnel located the target on Taris. She was working with some Cathar refugees out by one of the lakes, assisting them in setting up defenses for their camp to turn it into a more substantial settlement, and was seen healing some of them while under observation. The agent tested the camp's defense, and the Jedi came to the aid of the guards. As requested, the agent retreated and did not engage with her. She did not pursue, once she was certain that the agent was genuinely leaving the area.”

Lord Seryan's expression didn't change, and his hands never stopped moving, neatly trimming the plants in the tiered bed. “Did they obtain any images of the target? Any further intel?” 

“Yes, my lord. I have already uploaded the media to your datapad, and the report findings. Our agent discovered that the target was leaving the planet soon to travel to Tython. The surveillance was handed to me shortly after that discovery, and I am monitoring for further information. It will be in your hands the moment I have it.” 

“Excellent. Thank you, Agent...” One dark brow arched in inquiry.

“Zarane, my lord. No thanks are necessary. I am simply doing my job,” she answered promptly. Her eyes flickered towards the quick, impersonal motions of his hands, lightly flicking each piece of greenery away towards the floor with the edge of his shears. 

“Agent Zarane. I will remember it,” the Sith told her, the warmth in his voice in no way alleviating the chill that ran down her spine at the words. It might not have sounded that way to those from outside the Empire, but she knew very well that such a statement was a tacit warning against failure. “You are dismissed.”

Reluctantly, the agent inclined her head in polite respect, turning away. The moment she stepped out of the room, the door slid closed behind her, and the light died away. Crimson lights lined the hallway, the dark walls oppressive in an odd dichotomy with the sun-drenched atrium she'd just vacated. Zarane shook her head as a silent servant appeared to lead her back out to her speeder. Sith were strange at the best of times. This one was difficult to read, but something in his demeanor had felt like that of a hunting cat. This surveillance was not a simple job; there was definitely more to it than she understood. 

Some part of her felt a twinge of pity for the Miraluka Jedi whose image, information, and recordings resided on Lord Seryan's datapad. It was obvious that the Sith had something in mind for the woman, and Zarane was sure that it would not be an outcome that the Jedi would enjoy. Either way, it wasn't her concern. Her only worry was meeting his deadlines and providing him with the information that he sought. Pulling up her hood, the agent dashed out of the building as she reached the front door, heading for her speeder. The sooner she got back to Kaas City, the better.

In the atrium, Seryan stood gazing at the screen of his datapad, sending the images held within to a small holoprojector embedded into the wall of the room. An image flickered into view, framed against the wall, a young Miraluka woman's face taking shape. Dark hair was caught back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a few curling tendrils falling free in front of her ears. A clean jawline led into a small chin set below soft lips, and her mask was a delicate veil of black silk, the hem embroidered with silver thread in an intricate vine motif. It fell from just above her brows to brush against the sharp edges of high cheekbones, concealing the lack of eyes that he knew was hidden beneath the dark fabric. 

He reached out to touch the holo, his fingers passing through the image, and then closed his fingers into a fist. _Kylena. His Ky... he'd found her again._

And soon, he would bring her home to him, just as he'd promised all those years ago.


	2. In Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylena enjoys some time with the younglings and padawans before heading to her newest assignment.
> 
> Zarane receives her orders.

“Does this look right?” 

The piping, high voice of one of the younglings made Kylena smile, and she leaned over the shoulder of the little Twi'lek child whose lekku she was wrapping with ribbons. The children were sitting in a row, braiding each other's hair, wrapping lekku and montrals, and some of them were still learning how to braid. The number of times she'd been asked if someone was doing it right now would probably number well into the double digits, but being patient with the little ones was one of the duties that she found particularly easy to follow. “That's perfect, Adris. Keep going, left over right and right over left. Use the bits of ribbon there to tie it off when you finish the braid,” she encouraged. 

A little boy behind her was plaiting her own hair, and she couldn't begin to imagine how it looked. She could feel at least six braids now of varying thicknesses and skill levels, and he wasn't finished yet. An older Padawan behind him was cornrowing his hair with deft, expert hands, and behind -her- was a Togruta youngling who was sticking feathers, leaves, and flowers into the Padawan's chestnut herringbone braids. 

The children had been so energetic today, and they'd been driving the Masters to distraction with their questions and excitement. Taking them out here for a little hand-eye coordination had been her idea, and it'd been astonishingly fun work. Everyone was focused, laughing, and learning to appreciate everyone's differences. It'd turned out well, and Kylena felt so pleased. 

“Alright, once we're done here, everyone can go play for a while, then I want you all to apply yourselves and work hard at your lessons, alright? You've been so good here and I'm proud of you all.” Kylena disengaged herself from Lorian's little hands, a tangled mass of black braids hanging down her back with the ends inexpertly knotted off with ribbon pieces, and the little boy scooted forward, taking over her work on Tir'ani's lekku. “An hour of play, and then in to your lessons. Yes?”

A chorus of agreeable “Yes!” followed her pronouncement, and Kylena laughed, leaving her little herd of younglings and Padawans to their work and heading inside. The council chambers at the top of the twin ramps were not her goal, but she glanced at them all the same as she passed the entrances to the ramps, heading into the side hallway and down to her room. She'd been on Tython for two weeks, and had been itching to get back out into the wider galaxy when she'd finally been given an assignment. Alderaan was such a beautiful place, and she would be observing a diplomatic envoy from Coruscant. The work would be pleasant and interesting, and she would be visiting a planet she had always wished to see. 

Her bag was packed, and it would be far quieter to sleep on her ship than to try to catch another night's sleep here in the bustling temple dormitories. The room wasn't much bigger on the ship, but it was quiet, and peaceful, and there was space for meditation and saber practice. Kylena slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out to the shuttle. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a nagging sensation, as if there was something she'd forgotten. But as she sat down in the shuttle, bag at her feet, the Jedi pushed the needling thought away. Everything was in the bag, and anything she had left would be here when she returned. The ship was waiting at the orbital station, and she'd be on her way within a short time. 

Pulling out her datapad, the screen adjusted to suit her unusual vision with stronger contrasts between the print and background, the Miraluka began to read about Alderaan. It never hurt to be properly prepared for all the subtleties of a new planet before one arrived. The Jedi Order had taken her in despite her age and background, and she felt such a pressure sometimes to be sure that she didn't embarrass them or make them regret their choice to train her. Kylena focused on the writing, absorbing as much as she could on the short flight up to the station.

**Phantom class starship:**

Lord Seryan materialized on the holo, his arms folded across his chest. The casual clothing was gone, replaced by matte black armor, dark breeches, and fitted greaves, and he wore a pair of lightsabers at his hips. 

“Well?” he asked impatiently. 

“She's left Tython in her personal starship, my lord. Her itinerary is Alderaan, and records show that she is expected to join a diplomatic detail at House Organa. I have forwarded all the information on her contacts. As it is a diplomatic trip, it's likely that she is there for training. Access may be challenging, but it can be obtained.”

“Very good.” He paced back and forth on the holo, flickering in and out of view for a moment before returning to stillness. “Maintain a distance, but I want you to get an agent into the Organa grounds and as close to her as possible. No one affiliated with Rist. I want her observed, not murdered. Do you understand?” 

Zarane inclined her head in acknowledgment. It wasn't possible, at least she didn't think it was; but for a moment, she could have sworn that she could feel the pressure of his attention upon her as if it was a physical weight, like the shift in temperature before a storm. “I understand, my lord. No harm is to come to the Jedi unless you state otherwise. Your intent is perfectly clear.” 

“I expect a full report as soon as possible. Do not disappoint me, Agent Zarane.” Lord Seryan smiled, an engaging, warm expression, but Zarane felt a finger of chill go down her spine as he spoke her name. 

“Never, my lord. I will contact you with all speed.” 

“See that you do.”

The holo image vanished, and the agent exhaled with relief, feeling the strange pressure in the room dissipate at the same moment.


	3. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alderaan has some interesting surprises.

The Organa estate was incomparably luxurious, and the retainers saw to Kylena's every need before she could even voice them. It should have been an enjoyable situation, but instead, every detail felt like a strange mirror of the past. Some part of her expected to find her mother toiling away, cleaning a nearly spotless floor, or wiping down gleaming ornaments and lamps. It was a surreal experience, and she couldn't quite get used to it, or even find it pleasant. The infighting on the planet only made it worse; the various Houses battled over every conceivable slight, and it was a constant weight on her shoulders as she began to learn the delicate pathways to negotiation here among the nobility and their house members. 

The side effect of her surroundings that Kylena was afraid to admit, even to herself, was that it reminded her of Seryan. She had done everything that she could to forget about him, to push him away with the rest of her past. Attachments were forbidden, and when she was dispassionate about his desperate choice to free her and send her away to save her life, she could understand what her teachers had meant when they'd told her that relationships such as she'd had with her childhood .. friend.. could lead to the dark side of the force. His duty had been to his Empire, his family. But he'd put her first, defended her, protected her, sent her away to keep her safe. He'd been adamant about his intention to find her again; an intention that she could only assume he'd forgotten as the years had slid by, the way he'd probably forgotten her. 

Thinking about him now was foolishness, and pointless. Seryan was her past. The Order was her future, and her work here could give her a wider ability to affect change on other planets. She needed to focus on that.

Servants came and went in her quarters like ghosts, silent and patient. One of the ones she'd grown accustomed to stood waiting quietly near the door, her hands folded in front of herself and her head bowed beneath her soft blue headdress. The woman rarely spoke, and her words were slow and careful, but Kylena did not mind her presence or her assistance. As she rose from her desk, the servant came to her side, unbidden, and assisted her in sliding on the ornate robes the House elite had gifted to her. They were heavy and rich, embroidered skillfully and dyed a pristine cream that Kylena could not see properly to appreciate, but the admiring noises from the servants as they'd removed it from the box to present it to her had told her everything she'd needed to know. 

“Will there be anything else, my lady Jedi?” 

She had tried to break them of that habit, as well. Jedi were not nobility, she'd explained again and again, but every one of them referred to her often in this manner despite her attempts. They had successfully worn her down, eventually, and she'd given up on trying to stop them. “No, nothing else. Thank you.” The robes weighed on her shoulders as she checked her mask, and touched her intricately braided hair to be sure it was neat before heading out into the hallways that wound through the house like arteries, feeding into the massive reception room.

Representatives of the houses were gathered there with their retainers, attended by servants who carried wine and appetizers among the swirling, colorful courtiers. Everyone moved respectfully aside as the Jedi passed through, eyes taking in her robes and the delicate silk mask that covered her lack of eyes. In her sight, the room was very different than it was to most who congregated tonight. She could see the other Jedi easily; their bright, warm glows made them stand out from others in the room in a way that was impossible for her to miss. 

It meant that she also could not fail to notice the presence of the Sith who stood among a delegation from one of the houses allied with the Empire. They had been invited, and it was not her place to comment upon their inclusion, so Kylena had kept her opinions to herself. But it troubled her, nevertheless, to see the dark aura that suffused his form, one that felt familiar to her from her childhood on Dromund Kaas, among Seryan's family. All it did was remind her that once, the darkness had seemed different to her senses than it did now when she was Jedi-trained. Then, it had only been a sign of power and freedom, the freedom that Seryan had and that she lacked.

 _Stop. Stop thinking of him._ That was another life, another time. He had given her this life, this freedom. It would not do to waste it with the empty memories of her past.

A minor scion of Organa came shyly up to her midway through the evening, bowing to her with excruciating politeness and asking her if she'd do him the honor of partnering him on the floor. Kylena hesitated briefly before accepting; she had learned the dances as a matter of course, not wanting to find herself caught without the necessary skills to blend in as a diplomat. But part of her wished she could have declined as the nervous young man took her hand, leading her out onto the floor. The music was subtle and beautiful to her ears, and her partner was probably an excellent dancer at any other time. He was just too awed by being so close to a Jedi, and it showed. 

Kylena tried to compensate for his unease after the first time he trod on her robes. Then he stepped on her feet twice, and she winced before she caught herself. His face fell, his senses ringing loudly to her with his panic, and she sighed inwardly. “Relax,” she said quietly, smiling at him encouragingly. “There's no reason to feel nervous.”

He tried to smile at her, but immediately stepped on her robe again, making her stagger. A hand caught her elbow and steadied her firmly, and Kylena realized that it wasn't her partner's hand. The Sith stood there beside her, his attention shifting to the young Organa man. “May I cut in?” he said coolly, his accent distinctive and musical, reminding her so powerfully of Seryan's voice that for a moment, she was speechless. 

“Of course. Forgive me, Master Kylena, for my clumsiness,” her partner responded, bowing to her and letting go of her hand. He was gone, lost to the swirling dancers before she could stop him, and the taller Sith took possession of her with ease, swinging her into the dance without any apparent effort. 

Kylena wanted to pull away, to refuse the dance. All she could see was the shadowy corruption of his aura, and the faint smirk on his geometrically tattooed face, the markings telling her of his Mirialan heritage since his skin color was not visible to her sense of 'sight'. His height was notable, but he was such a graceful and considerate dancer that it made no difference in how they moved together. It startled her to realize that when she erased who he was from her perception of this moment, the dance itself was actually pleasant. “I should not have cut in, I am certain, even to save your feet and that fetching robe you're wearing from their demise. You would rather dance with anyone else in this room but me.” He didn't ask the final sentence, simply stated it calmly, his smile widening as if her obvious discomfort amused him. Perhaps it did.

“I must admit it is a difficult position to be in, being grateful to a Sith,” she replied. He spun her easily, lightly, his fingers strong as they drew her against him again; just slightly too close to be comfortable. “But I have no intention of making a scene, if that is what you hope for, Sith.”

The Sith laughed, his head tilting back. The sound was as enticing as his voice, deep and rich, and it drew stares from the crowd, making Kylena feel like she was on display. Her cheeks flushed red, and she stiffened in his arms, unwilling to embarrass her hosts but feeling trapped by his touch and the nearness of his dark aura. “Kesterren will do, if you would prefer a name to the impersonal 'Sith'. I did hope for exactly that, my dear Jedi. But I see you are unmoved by my tricks. How proud your Order must be, with such a serene member as part of their number. What brings you here to Alderaan? Searching for promising recruits? Brokering a peace treaty? Bolstering failing Republic interests?”

“My reasons for being here are none of your concern, any more than you would tell me why you are here,” Kylena pointed out, her voice tart, and he laughed again, this time far more softly and intimately. Somehow.. that was much worse. She tried to pull her hand from his, but his fingers tightened, almost painfully, holding her captive. “I think that's enough dancing for tonight, if you don't mind.”

“You're right.. I would never tell you why I am here. As charming as you have been as a dance partner.. I hope we do not cross paths again. It would not be nearly as cordial, and it would be a shame to have to kill you.” The song wound down, and the Miraluka pulled gracefully free of her unwanted partner's arms, stepping away as he bowed to her in an exaggerated, amused way. “Thank you for the dance. It was... most informative.”

Informative? He'd learned nothing from her. Kylena turned away, moving into the crowd. She had discharged her duty by coming here to the gathering and participating. The encounter with the Sith had been strange and disconcerting, and all she could think of was the quiet safety of her own quarters. 

The Mirialan watched her go, his amber-gold eyes tracking the Jedi until she disappeared from view.


	4. Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seryan gets Kesterren's thoughts on his Jedi.

When the holo connection cleared, Seryan saw Lord Kesterren sprawled comfortably in a chair with a servant hovering nearby, pouring wine into a glass. Kes took the glass and flashed a quick, appreciative smile at the woman before she disappeared from sight. He had known the Mirialan since his time in the Academy; while Seryan's path had been relatively smooth, his family name well known and his abilities more than enough to engender respect among the other initiates, Kesterren had fought his way to the top by climbing over the illicitly killed bodies of his competitors, his brutality and strength gaining him the respect that his alien blood had denied him. The two of them had become friends as they'd risen together, and the friendship had endured through both of them finding their way in Sith society, and eventually becoming Lords within a few months of each other. 

“Are you quite ready? I am not interested in watching you get drunk, or being a voyeur while you seduce the servants.” Seryan rolled his eyes, leaning against the back of his chair. 

“You were keeping secrets from me, Sery. My feelings are quite bruised,” Kesterren observed slyly, sipping from his wine glass. 

“I don't know what you mean.”

Kesterren laughed, running one hand through his short, dark blonde hair, the geometric designs of the tattoos that crossed both cheeks and the bridge of his nose clearly defined in the monochromatic lighting of the holo image. “You told me to see your little Jedi, tell you how she seemed. You didn't tell me she was pretty. Or such an enjoyable dance partner.”

Seryan took a slow, deep breath, reminding himself that Kes was his friend. And that it would be considered unconscionably rude to use the force to choke friends. “It was not information that you needed. Besides, I haven't seen her in person since she was young. It's not as if I knew for certain..”

“Oh, don't -keep- lying, that's shameful, Sery, and it's beneath you and me both. I know you have a spy here. I'm fairly sure that I know who it is, even. Appropriating Intelligence assets to keep an eye on your little Republic crush. How very efficient of you. Economically sound strategy.” The Mirialan swung one booted foot idly where it hung over the arm of the chair, his back propped up against the back and arm of the other side of the seat. “I know you have pictures of her, holo images.. so don't pretend that you didn't know she was enticing. Alien or not, she -is- attractive.”

“You're an alien too, Kes,” Seryan pointed out in an exasperated tone. There was no distracting his friend once he'd seized onto an idea, so he didn't even bother to try. “It is fairly hypocritical of you to judge her for that, isn't it?”

“I'm Sith,” Kesterren said in reply, and Seryan almost smiled, hearing the insulted growl in the other man's tone. “It's not the same.”

“Of course not. Now tell me.. you saw her. Does she seem to be settling in well in her new assignment?” 

“You're trying to change the subject. But I'll allow it.” Kesterren's expression brightened, the momentary cloud of irritation passing swiftly. “The House certainly values her. The servants said she is a pleasant guest and makes very few demands upon them. She comes and goes as she wishes on various diplomatic errands to the Republic aligned Houses, and I believe she is supposed to attend some talks with a vassal of Thul's soon.” An unseen servant's hand appeared, refilling the tall Sith's wineglass. “If you intended to do something, that might be an opportune moment.”

“Your participation in this matter is over. I don't think you need to concern yourself with my plans from now on. I'm sure you have your own reasons for being there.” Seryan's dismissive tone provoked another smile from his friend.

“Why do I have the feeling you want to keep me away from your Miraluka?” Kesterren swung his legs back over the arm of the chair so that he could sit up, his half-empty wineglass dangling carelessly from two fingers in his left hand. “Don't worry.. I know when I'm not wanted.”

“No, you absolutely do not, and you actively ignore any implication that you're not wanted, Kes. But this is not one of those times when I'll be tolerant of your quirks. Go chase servants around, leave Kylena to me, murder whomever you're there to destroy, and we'll go out for drinks when you get back to civilization.”

The Mirialan laughed, and finished the rest of his wine, handing the glass carelessly off to the side just out of view of the holo image with the indifferent certainty of someone who knows the servants will always be waiting there to take it. “Fine, fine. Consider me warned off appropriately. I'll let you know when I'm back on Dromund Kaas.” He wiggled his fingers in a mocking, playful farewell gesture as the holo went dark, his image vanishing from view.

Seryan sat forward in his chair, resting his arms across his knees. His friend's suggestion did have merit, but it was bold; a smash and grab instead of a more delicate exchange. Kesterren's style ran to brutal destruction, not careful planning.. but Seryan was a more cautious Sith, and it had served him well over the years since he'd ascended from the rank of apprentice. He didn't want to cause an enormous incident on the planet, or draw the attention of other Sith to his Jedi before he had the opportunity to whisk her safely away behind the walls of his estate. No, Kes' plan was too loud, too rough-edged. 

He had a different approach in mind.


	5. Communique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A startling event at the Organa palace results in a strange method of contact.

Kylena yawned behind her hand, sliding down from the massive thranta's saddle as gracefully as possible in her robes. She was exhausted, but the day had been a fruitful one, with several key concessions wrung from the Thul ambassador in their meeting. It wasn't until she descended from the thranta platform and approached the looming Organa gate that she realized the guard presence had nearly tripled from what it had been when she'd left yesterday. 

“What is happening here? Has there been an attack?” she asked the sergeant overseeing the arrivals as he quickly scanned her, checking her identity and confirming her status.

“A Sith infiltrated the grounds, Master Jedi.. he set explosives on one of the smaller buildings and then slipped into the main house during the confusion. He was cornered briefly in the west residential wing, but cut his way out through our guards. We lost twenty soldiers,” the guard told her stolidly. “Several in the blast, and the rest to the Sith himself and some huge, vicious akk dog he brought with him.”

“An akk dog with a Sith? That is.. unexpected.” She could feel his fear beneath his calm demeanor, but she could hardly blame him for it. It was an audacious attack to make, and that he'd done it and then escaped was even more unnerving. “The west wing.. are you sure?” 

“I'm certain, Master Jedi. Why?”

Kylena was grateful for her lack of eyes.. it was hard for people to see how she really felt most of the time without eyes to give away surprise, or shock, or worry. “No reason. Could you assist me by sending the surveillance footage to me, please? And thank you for the information, Sergeant.” Her footsteps hastened as she headed down towards the main house, the largest building in the complex. The west wing was where she was staying, and it was difficult to convince herself that it was a coincidence after the encounter she'd had with the Sith.

 _Kesterren._ That'd been his name. 

She reached her quarters through another series of checkpoints with the obviously rattled house guard. The closer she came to her room, the more on edge the soldiers seemed to be, which made perfect sense given how easily the intruder had penetrated their defenses. To her sight, the halls were even more crowded – walls were no bar to her vision, and she could see the servants and house members coming and going. There were so many people to keep safe. The council would tell her that it wasn't her duty. That she was here to learn more about negotiation and diplomacy, and that the defense of the house's denizens belonged to the guard.

It was true, of course. That didn't make it feel like an acceptable response.

Once she was inside her own rooms, she pulled her hair down, the weight of it spilling down her back, her scalp aching dully from the no-nonsense bun she'd had her hair confined in all day. Too tight. She would have to be more gentle...

Kylena felt her heart skip as she realized there was an envelope sitting on her bed. Right in the middle of the pressed coverlet, the envelope lay against the fabric. No one in the house would have sent her a letter on -paper-.. it was such an odd, archaic thing to do. Unless one had no other way of sending a message, such as a HoloNet address, or datapad code. Crossing to the bed, she bent and picked up the envelope, her fingers brushing over the heavyweight, creamy material with unconscious pleasure. It felt rich and expensive beneath the pads of her fingers, and she stroked it for a moment before sliding one finger under the edge and neatly tearing it open. The paper parted with a whisper of protest, and Kylena drew out a carefully folded paper in the same costly material as the envelope. 

The writing was bold, with thick, elegantly scripted letters in a deep black ink that made the contrast of ink and paper relatively easy for even her unusual version of sight to make out without trouble. She wondered if that had been deliberate on the part of the writer... if he'd known how to make the writing clear to her.

_Master Jedi,_

_Forgive my unorthodox method of contact. I could not bear to leave you in doubt of my enjoyment in our all too brief encounter. You dance as lightly as a bird, those lovely robes were unaccountably charming, and I confess that I was surprised to discover that our conversation was quite pleasant. I'm only sad that you were so quick to flee the dance floor.. my subsequent partners were not nearly so gifted on their feet and they quite ruined one of my favorite pairs of boots with their clumsiness._

_I know that you will greatly disapprove of my method of delivering my letter, but I could not be certain that the Organa guard would accept it and bring it to you. So it fell to me to bring it to your door directly. I hope that you will forgive my heavy-handed attempt to thank you for the dance._

_In the spirit of that hope for your gracious forgiveness, let me offer a tidbit of information even though I should not; one that is free of obligation on your part. Your successful negotiation today, while fair and cleverly done, has roused anger from the family of the Thul ambassador with whom you dealt in the meeting. My agents tell me that an assassin of house Rist has been employed, and I believe that their target is none other than you, my dear Jedi. You are free to ignore my advice, of course, and I am certain that is what you will do. I can't fault you for believing me a liar or manipulator. But if I were you, I would be very cautious for the remainder of your time on Alderaan, and keep your guard and wits about you._

_I would find it terribly regrettable if you were killed, and I am certain that I am not the only one who would be dismayed by such an event._

_Honorably yours,  
Lord Kesterren_

_Thul Palace  
Alderaan_

Sinking down on the bed, Kylena rubbed her temple with two fingers, the other hand still holding the paper. It was a ridiculous, overly dramatic, terrible idea to embrace; that the Sith had come here in person, blown up an outbuilding and killed twenty soldiers simply so he could deliver a handwritten note to her room. And what was she supposed to do with this information? Believe it? Remain shut up safely in the Organa palace grounds? How safe -was- it here, if he could just smash his way inside like a rancor whenever he wished?

No. He was trying to intimidate her. Keep her from interfering, perhaps, with whatever he was here to do for the Empire. 

Kylena folded the letter neatly, sliding it back into the envelope and tucking it into a pocket inside her robe. There were no assassins, she was quite certain of it now. It was all a trick, a Sith mind game to make her see attackers around every corner. 

There were no assassins, she told herself firmly, ignoring the tremor in her hands as she straightened her robes with quick motions. 

The Sith wouldn't stop her from performing the tasks that she had come here to complete.


	6. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kesterren pays for his misstep. Seryan explains his connection to the Jedi.

Kesterren woke slowly without the cue of light, his suite darkened artificially. There were no windows in most of the chambers, an Alderaanian oddity that he found irritating. Beautiful views everywhere, and no windows. It ruined the otherwise luxurious surroundings of the Thul palace, so he compensated himself in other ways. The bed was warm, and he could feel the soft bodies of his entertainment from last night still curled against him beneath the covers. The Thul house had been welcoming in more than one way, and what he'd thought initially was going to be another encounter with one bored noblewoman out to claim the notoriety of sleeping with a visiting Sith had turned into two noblewomen.

It wasn't as if he was going to complain; it'd been an enjoyable night. That they both were still here at this time of the morning.. or afternoon, he corrected himself, knowing it was likely he'd slept straight through the morning altogether.. was an annoyance, but a minor one. A heavy sigh came from the floor, and he heard Xan's armored hide shift as the akk dog moved to a more comfortable position, his ebony bulk invisible in the dark of the room. Slipping his arm out from underneath one of his slumbering bed partners, Kesterren brushed the woman's hair back from her face before sitting up. It took some skillful maneuvering on his part to escape the bed and the two sets of arms that had been twined around him all night, but once he was free, it took only a few minutes to slip on a shirt and pants. Xan's mind touched his, the brush of the force-sensitive beast's animal thoughts a familiar sharp, wild burst of sensation and simplistic thought. The akk dog rose to his feet, sensing his master's intention, and padded out of the bedroom door as it slid open, followed by Kesterren, boots in hand. 

The impulse that had led him to the audacious attack on the Organa grounds felt like a childish gesture in the light of day. There had been no retaliation, yet.. but the Alderaanian nobles took such affronts poorly, and they had long memories for perceived slights. There was no question that his actions would lead to further warfare, and while he didn't care in the least about such repercussions, the odds that the story would not reach Seryan's well-informed ears were slim and none. 

Their friendship was one of the few bonds he could rely on as strongly as he counted on Xan's loyalty, but among Sith, friendship was a nebulous thing. Kesterren was not unaware that the reason Seryan could afford to even have such friendships was a level of rank, privilege, and power that he himself could not easily aspire to, no matter how talented or powerful he became. He trusted Seryan, but in the back of his mind, he knew that if it ever became more politic for the noble-born Sith to throw him to the sharks, it was possible that his 'friend' could become an enemy with a knife at his back. 

Seen in that light, his decision was foolish in the extreme. He'd known it even in the midst of the attack – that it was crazy to do what he was doing. Seryan was going to be furious that he'd disregarded his order to leave the Jedi alone. But there was something about the Jedi and Seryan's interest in her that piqued his curiosity. Some history being kept from him. His friend had a reason for all this elaborate nexu and womp rat pursuit, one that he had not shared, and Kesterren wanted to understand it. What was so special about -this- Jedi?

He tugged his boots on, leaning one hand on Xan's tall back for support as he pulled the second boot over his calf, the armored guard tight against his flesh. The door to his chamber slid open, and Kesterren jerked his head up, feeling the weight of familiar power press against him, making the room feel suddenly small. Seryan's green eyes skewered him from the doorway, cold with undisguised fury. 

Kesterren stepped back, his legs pressing against the akk dog's heavily muscled form, one hand resting on the jagged armored plates that covered his hide. The beast growled, the sound low and threatening, his mind touch questioning his master. Xan knew Seryan well enough, but to claim that the dog felt friendly towards the other Sith would be a stretch. “Sery..” he began, hopeful that the diminutive would be enough to remind him of their friendship. 

Seryan's power slammed into him, forcing him back against the wall. Pinned helplessly, the Mirialan felt his feet dangling, inches above the thick carpet, his throat tight with pressure. It was a struggle to keep the furious akk dog from leaping at his attacker, but he held the beast back, knowing Seryan would not hesitate to kill Xan in his current mood. Crouching in the center of the room, the akk dog's wide blue eyes followed the interloper as Seryan crossed the room, one black-gloved hand lifting. Inches from Kesterren's throat, the tips of his fingers curled into a vice, and Kes felt his throat close further, panic and a flickering, awakening anger answering the sensation of choking.

“I told you to leave her alone. That I would handle everything myself from that moment.” Seryan's voice was calm, even placid. But the pupils in his eyes were dilated, the black nearly erasing the deep, true green of his irises, empty of everything but coiled rage. “You deliberately ignored my request, and then executed an attack upon House Organa. I had to come here myself to oversee my business because of your interference, Kesterren. Their security will be increased. It will be harder to get to her than it would have been, had you not acted so stupidly.” 

His hand flicked to the side, negligently, and flung Kesterren against the far wall, leaving him gasping, crumpled on the floor, his green skin pale. Stalking towards his friend, Seryan hauled him to his feet with the same hand, this time physically, his grip bruising, painfully tight on the other man's jaw. Kes didn't resist his hold, his bright gold eyes locked on Seryan's face. “I know. I told you,” Kes ground out painfully through the incredibly hard grip Sery had on him, “that I would back off. I meant to do it. I'm sorry. Who is she? Are you just going to kill her?”

For a moment, it seemed that Seryan's temper would win out, that he'd tighten his hand even further, or ignite both sabers and spit his friend on them. Then there was a slow flicker of awareness in his expression, and Kesterren saw reason return to the moss-green gaze. Seryan looked at his hand, at his friend's bruising jaw and throat, and he let Kesterren down, his hand moving to the Mirialan's broad shoulder. “I'm sorry. I was.. no. I'm sorry. That's it. No excuses.” He waited until Kesterren gave him a shaky but sincere smile, and then moved away, sinking down on one of the couches. The akk dog gave him a mistrustful stare, and laid down, both blue eyes fixed on the interloper, but Seryan only folded his hands together, resting them over his stomach as he leaned back against the couch. 

Taking several slow breaths, Kesterren finally moved to join his friend, settling down at the other end of the couch. “I was wrong to interfere, Sery. I'm sorry for that. Now we're even.. everything is fine.” Xan half-rose, creeping over towards his master, and laid his chin down on the floor, the edge of it heavily propped up on top of Kes' left boot. Leaning forward, he stroked the beast's back, checking the fit of the massive collar wrapped around the dog's throat as a method of keeping his hands busy for a moment while he recaptured his composure. “What is so special about this Jedi?”

“I'm not going to kill her. I knew her. When we were children, she was one of the slaves on the estate, she and her mother. Cyn tried to kill her; she knew I cared for Kylena.... that's her name, Kylena. She knew I cared for her, and she hated it. She thought it was beneath me. Beneath our family name, our bloodline, to consort with an alien slave girl. If I'd gone to the Academy, left her there..” 

“Cyn would have murdered her,” Kes finished as Seryan's voice trailed off. Before this conversation, he would have said that Seryan was the least emotional person that he knew. His sister was in every way his opposite, passionate, filled with hatred and pride, overflowing with fury. But Seryan had always been ice and control, all plans and details and minutiae. Until today. When he spoke about the Jedi, his face changed, his very voice had changed. Kesterren was under no illusions that Seryan wouldn't have throttled him to death in this room and never raised his voice. But speaking of Kylena, he smiled, his voice was soft. His eyes were soft. 

This Jedi was more than a target, she was a goal. **The** goal.

“She would have. So I freed her.. I freed Kylena, got her off-world. I had seen her use the force to defend herself against Cynera, so I told her to seek out the Jedi. She was always a gentle thing. Even against my sister, she just protected herself, she didn't lash out. She would have died in the Academy, Kes. Do you understand?” 

“I understand. But you can't think you're going to bring her back to your estate, keep her there... Seryan, you can't mean to... is that why you made that wing of the estate? The ivory walls, the fountains, the plants, the birds.. was that for her?” Kesterren couldn't hide his incredulity. “Sery.. she's a Jedi. I have spoken to her. She is a JEDI. A.. capital letters Jedi. I am telling you, I could smell the goodness on her like cheap perfume. You can't be imagining that this is a woman you can turn to the dark side, or make content to be kept like a lapdog.”

Seryan looked away from his direct gaze, his expression hardening stubbornly. “You don't know her, Kes. I do. We grew up together. I told her I'd come for her. That I'd find her, no matter what. I know she remembers that. She may not understand at first, that's true. But we promised each other. I said I'd find her and I have.” There was a feverish intensity to the words, a determined certainty, and when Seryan glanced at him again, Kesterren relented, nodding in agreement. 

“You're right. I don't know her. I only talked to her for a few minutes, and you were children together. Maybe she's been waiting, even looking for you on her own. Let me help. Tell me what you want to do, and I'll help you.” 

Seryan searched his face for a long moment before he nodded assent, and Kesterren could see the unyielding fervor that transformed his friend's face. Nothing would stop him from possessing this woman. Seryan saw it as completing a promise that he'd made as a child, a fulfillment of words spoken in haste during his youth. It was a fool's errand; Kes knew it. The Miraluka was a Jedi. She would never be happy in that cage that Seryan had built, however beautiful the walls, and she would never be Sith, either. 

It cost him nothing to keep his misgivings to himself, though. Seryan was his friend. 

And they had a Jedi to catch.


	7. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylena's tour of the Elysium ends with an unexpected collision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Ashes, by Celine Dion for Deadpool 2. (If you haven't watched the video, it's well worth watching.)

**Kylena:**

Alderaan's bracing, azure vistas were all the more beautiful from the towering height of the Elysium, a worn monument of cracked and fading glory that had once held every significant political meeting on the planet. It had fallen somewhat into disuse, only called upon for the most vital of agreements, but its heritage was well-documented, and Kylena had been deeply pleased when an invitation to view it had been extended. Heavily armored Organa troops attended her visit, and Thele Organa, a lesser scion of the house, had been assigned to accompany her as well. Thele was a notable young scholar of Alderaan history, and her cheerful demeanor had made the trip enjoyable despite the sharp cold of the air.

Grateful for the warmth of her robes, Kylena paced over the worn, damaged walkway as they looped back towards their transport shuttle. Her hands were tucked firmly into her voluminous sleeves, but even with several layers of clothing, the chill was enough to make her need to focus her will so that she did not embarrass herself by letting her teeth chatter. Thele did not seem to notice the cold at all, but for her own part, Kylena had gone from the rainy, humid jungles of Dromund Kaas to Tython. She had visited colder planets, but none of it ever seemed helped her to appreciate chilly weather despite her efforts. The sight of the Elysium and the opportunity to explore it in detail had been worth the discomfort, though; she couldn't find it in herself to complain simply because her fingers had gone numb a half an hour or more ago.

Gaining the shuttle's ramp, she stood back and gestured Thele to precede her inside before following. Her ivory and green robes swept the ramp behind her booted feet, whispering around her ankles, and she couldn't hide the sigh of relief as the warmth of the shuttle's climate system enveloped her. The shuttle lifted off a short time later, and Kylena closed her eyes, letting herself sink into a half-trance, her mind spooling away. Thele was busy talking to the pilot and tapping on her datapad, and without her chatter to distract her, it was easy to let herself fall into the force. Peace suffused her.

She felt the note of dissonance a short time later, souring her link with the force. A sense of danger sang through her mind, and as she began to come back to herself, she felt the shuttle buck violently. The guard sergeant stood braced in the doorway to the cockpit, his bulky form obscuring the view out of the front of the shuttle, but she could still see that they were low, very low, and dropping fast. The Organa palace stood a distance away, too far to be a source of safety, and Kylena felt the shuttle jerk like a maddened ronto as it struck several trees, the crack of the trunks sounding like explosions in the confined space. 

Reaching out to shield as many of the others as she could, Kylena could feel something on the edges of her senses, a powerful presence. Without being near the source, she could not definitively say that it was dark side power that she sensed even though that was how it felt, but every instinct told her that whoever it was was the reason they were plummeting towards the ground. If that was so, then it would seem that perhaps Kesterren had been honest with her. For all she knew, though, it could be him out there, though the power seemed.. different. Familiar. 

_Sery? It couldn't be. He was light years away..._

There was no time to consider what her mind was telling her; the shuttle ricocheted off a stone outcropping, and she could hear the engines stutter, cutting out entirely as they spun towards the crystal waters of a lake. The shuttle struck the water, one of the wings shearing off at the impact. Kylena held the shield, strength welling up inside her, fed by the presence of the force. She could not stop the others or herself from being thrown around by the blow, however, and barely felt herself slam into one of the walls. There was a sharp stab of pain from her shoulder and arm, then a headache exploded into being. The shuttle was sinking – she could hear the water around them, pressing against the outside, forcing the ship deeper. Lights flickered, and metal ground against stone with a dull scraping sound. 

Her grasp on the force slid from her, the startling pain in her head muddling her thoughts. There was a loud noise, metal screaming, ripping apart, and Kylena wondered if a rock had punctured the hull. Water rushed into the space as the door seal gave way to the external pressure, and everything went abruptly dark. 

Jaws pressed around her injured arm, and Kylena flinched in pain, coming around slowly in response to the uncomfortable sensation. The pressure abruptly withdrew, then the creature gently took hold of the opposite shoulder. She was being dragged across the ground slowly. Heavy, scaled paws straddled her body, a massive armored head pulling her along. Akk dog, her mind supplied, foggy with confusion. Big one. Like.. like something.. something she had been told. The attack. An akk dog, a Sith. 

_Kesterren._ He was here. She could feel him, now that she knew. His thoughts were focused, fixed, and then she suddenly could no longer touch them. He had felt her, as well. But there was another dark presence, one that she could see, distantly, standing near the edge of the lake. She heard the sound of crumpling metal and knew to her grief that it was the shuttle. The lights of the guards, of Thele's bright presence and life – they flickered out, one after another. Kylara cried out in helpless pain at the sensation of their deaths, the shock of it needling into her mind. The headache roared through her head, and though she fought against it, she felt herself falling into darkness again. 

**Seryan:**

She was perfect. Exactly how he'd always imagined. 

Slightly bedraggled, soaked to the skin, and sporting an impressive bruise on her temple above her sodden mask: but still perfect.

The shuttle had been breaking apart when they reached it, hull integrity lost entirely from the damage and plunge into the icy mountain waters of the lake. Kes had helped him rip the door open, and Xan had swum down to the wreckage, dragging the Jedi free and hauling her to safety. The beast's obedience and his speed at rescuing the Jedi had all but erased his lingering irritation towards his friend, and when Kesterren had gone to see that she was wrapped in thermal blankets, Seryan had remained for a time at the edge of the lake, watching as the sergeant began to emerge, pulling the young Organa noblewoman with him. It was a pity, of course. He had no particular enmity towards any of them. But neither could he allow them to return with word of what had happened here. It looked like a malfunction, and that is what it would remain. 

His power expanded, forcing the soldier and the unconscious woman back into the doorway and into the water-filled confines of the weakening shuttle. He could feel their panicked minds flood with fear as he _pushed_ , one hand flexing, the fingers closing slowly. Squeezing. The metal bent under the weight of his will, crumpling, and as a finishing touch, he pressed the door back into place, letting it seem like the pressure and damage had killed them through drowning, rather than the force. The illusion of a machinery malfunction would not be perfect, but it would be sufficient to allow him time to get off world with his Kylena. 

The Thuls were packing up the makeshift camp they had used to target the shuttle, half-hidden in the shadow of the mountain. Seryan barely looked at any of the soldiers, his gaze fixed on the still, blanket-shrouded figure that lay swathed in warming blankets, her dark hair spilling down her back in thick waves. He knelt beside her on the ground, tucking the blanket more carefully around her shoulders. The girl she had been was still there in the woman's face; the same softness in her jaw, and the line of her mouth. His fingers brushed the embroidered edge of her mask. It was not the same one that he'd given her all those years ago, but it was similar enough in style and material that he felt his heart clench in relief. He'd been afraid somewhere deep in his mind that she had forgotten him – that Kes was right, and it was all in his head. 

Kolto gel gleamed against her skin, and the bruise was already starting to fade, going from an ominous black-purple shade to more purple-red as he watched. Seryan slid his arms under her, lifting her easily. He rose to his feet, and moved towards the tethered thranta that would take him to the spaceport and his ship. 

“Sery.. “ Kesterren's hesitant voice broke into his focus, and Seryan turned to look at him, reluctantly pulling his gaze from Kylena's sleeping face. The Mirialan warrior looked uneasy, and when he spoke, Seryan knew that it wasn't what he'd first intended to say. Whatever it was, he'd thought better of it obviously. “I had your ship prepped. I'll see you when I get back to Dromund Kaas.” 

He watched his friend silently. Something about the look that Kes was trying to hide made Seryan want to bristle, a tickle of anger brushing his emotions. She stirred in his arms, her weight reassuring. She was here, he had found her. There was nothing to be angry about, not now. Kesterren was likely just worried that things would not go smoothly. The anger died, fading into ashes, and he smiled graciously at his friend, feeling the welcome weight of Kylena's head against his shoulder. “Thank you. Come to the estate after you've seen to those creatures of yours. I know better than to think you'd come out to see me first after so many years, eh?” 

The Mirialan returned his smile, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “You know me too well, my friend. Now get going. We'll finish cleanup here.” 

The linemen had drawn the massive thranta down to the ground by the time he reached it. Seryan accepted a hand up from one of the Thul guardsmen, a heavyset, powerful man with a scarred face whose incurious gaze only touched on the Jedi lightly before he secured the straps that would keep Seryan and his precious burden from any harm while in the air. They loosened the tether and stepped back as the heavy wings began to clumsily beat, lifting the creature into the sky. It circled once, then glided towards the spaceport, the wings smoothly scything. It sang as it flew, a low, gentle sound, but he hardly heard it. All of his attention was for the woman that he held, her sleeping mind ordered and shielded even while unconscious. His Ky. 

They would never be separated again. He would make certain of that.


	8. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylena awakens in unfamiliar surroundings.

She smelled flowers when she woke.

Crisp, finely-woven sheets lay over her body, the bed exquisitely comfortable and far larger than anything she'd ever slept in, even in Organa palace. Lights illuminated the room as Kylena sat up slowly, grateful to find that her head no longer ached. Her robes hung on a nearby hook on the wall, although her lightsaber was nowhere to be seen, but the clothing she wore was far finer than her usual, made of soft, gossamer-weight Killik silk and lace edging. The sleeping gown was modest and long, falling to below her knees. Even so.. it was an unnerving sensation, knowing that someone had undressed her while she was unconscious, and she slid out of the bed at once to search for clothing and figure out what was happening, bare feet landing in a thick, soft rug. 

It was no surprise to her that the door panel failed to respond to her touch. She had anticipated that, given the attack and Kesterren's presence among the soldiers. It was possible that they had taken her to House Thul, or to another location in Empire territory. She didn't understand -why- they would want her, or that any explanation would be here in this beautiful prison, but Kylena began exploring her surroundings to find out anything that she could before she was interrupted. 

As far as prisons went, it was a very comfortable one indeed. Aside from the luxurious bed and sheets, the room contained a desk and chair made of carved wood, as well as several comfortably upholstered chaises to rest on. Kylena ran her fingers over the shapes, the sleek surface of the wood surprisingly appealing to the touch. The material had a delicate, natural scent, rich and soothing, and there were austerely designed shelving units to either side fitted with elegant decorations and a spray of dried flowers draped over the top shelves of both. A wardrobe opened at the touch of her hand, and she looked through the clothing inside – all of it carefully chosen and exactly fitted to suit her height and weight. There were even a selection of masks in a variety of fabrics and materials, from simple ones to several beautiful options that were extravagantly set with jewels and crystals. 

The bathroom was almost as large as the main room she'd been given, and it was finely appointed, not that she'd expected otherwise at this point in her explorations. There was even a massive tub and shower made to use real water, rather than sonic or other more efficient, less expensive methods of cleaning. It was clear that someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make certain that no expense was spared in this space, but it was also obvious that they intended her to be comfortable enough to remain here for some time, and that was not what she intended to do in the least. Wherever they'd taken her on Alderaan, she would not stay any longer than it took her to figure out a way to escape.

No one came to the room for some time, and by the time the door opened, Kylena had taken a shower, dried her hair and braided it neatly into a long, black rope down her back, twined with ivory ribbons that she'd found in the wardrobe. Dressed in breeches and a tunic of soft tan and ivory robes, she'd finally settled at the desk, reading a treatise on the flora and fauna of pre-war Taris. More astonishing than the selection of robes and clothing had been the fact that each neatly folded section was labeled with printed notes on the color of the items stored above it. They had known that she would not be able to see the colors for herself to choose her outfits. This didn't feel like an incidental encounter, but she couldn't begin to imagine why Kesterren, who barely knew her at all, would have gone to such trouble. 

She heard the door hiss open, and soft footsteps, but when she turned to see who had entered the room, it was only a young woman in her twenties, clad in neat black livery edged in green and silver thread and piping. Her hair was caught up in a no-nonsense chignon, and she had a tray of food in her hands. 

“I have some light refreshments for you, my lady,” the woman said politely. Her accent caught Kylena's attention. It was familiar.. Kaasian, though it was servant's speech, not the cool, elite precision of Seryan and his family. It didn't mean anything other than that the Sith had traveled with his servants, which didn't seem out of the realm of possibility. “Where would you like them served?” The woman's eyes never quite rose to meet Kylena's face, her deference well-trained, smile carefully bland.

“Here at the desk, please.” Kylena sat back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap in an attempt to seem as harmless as possible. She could feel the woman's nervousness, though it was extremely well hidden, and suspected she'd been sent first to see what Kylena would do and would pay the price if she didn't 'behave'. It would do little good to try to get answers out of someone like this anyway.. it was unlikely the woman knew anything of the plans of her employers. She would have to wait until someone else appeared to speak to her. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”

“You're welcome, my lady. Is there anything else that you require? There is a summons button next to the bed that will bring one of us immediately if you think of something at another time. Please don't hesitate to call for us at any hour of the day or night.” 

My freedom? The thought felt slightly hysterical, and Kylena fought to keep it from showing on her face, her lips twitching with the sudden frantic need to laugh. “May I ask a question? I do not intend to get you into trouble with your employer,” she added quickly at the flash of panic in the woman's face, and saw her shoulders relax at the reassurance. “Are we on Alderaan?”

The woman smiled, a more genuine expression, lifting her gaze briefly to look directly at Kylena as if she were surprised by the question. “No, my lady. Dromund Kaas, of course. I will pick up the tray after you have had time to eat.” She bowed politely, and disappeared out into the hall beyond. 

Kylena only got a small glimpse of the area beyond her own door, but it was nondescript, simply an empty hallway that vanished as the door slid closed, locking with a very ominous click. _Dromund Kaas..._ It had been years since she had been here, and the realization of where she was made her feel like a small child again, lonely and scared.


End file.
